oothed his hair, drew on his overcoat and gloves, and said,
politely:

"I am ready to accompany you, monsieur."

The commissary folded up his pocket-book, and bowed to M. Fauvel, saying
to Prosper:

"Come!"

They left the room, and with a distressed face, and eyes filled with
tears that he could not restrain, the banker stood watching their
retreating forms.

"Good Heaven!" he exclaimed: "gladly would I give twice that sum to
regain my old confidence in poor Prosper, and be able to keep him with
me!"

The quick-eared Fanferlot overheard these words, and prompted to
suspicion, and ever disposed to impute to others the deep astuteness
peculiar to himself, was convinced they had been uttered for his
benefit.

He had remained behind the others under pretext of looking for an
imaginary umbrella, and, as he reluctantly departed, said he would call
in again to see if it had been found.

It was Fanferlot's task to escort Prosper to prison; but, as they were
about starting, he asked the commissary to leave him at liberty to
pursue another course, a request which his superior granted.

Fanferlot had resolved to obtain possession of Prosper's note, which he
knew to be in Cavaillon's pocket.

To obtain this written proof, which must be an important one, appeared
the easiest thing in the world. He had simply to arrest Cavaillon,
frighten him, demand the letter, and, if necessary, take it by force.

But to what would this disturbance lead? To nothing unless it were an
incomplete and doubtful result.

Fanferlot was convinced that the note was intended, not for the young
clerk, but for a third person.

If exasperated, Cavaillon might refuse to divulge who this person was,
who after all might not bear the name "Gypsy" given by the cashier. And,
even if he did answer his questions, would he not lie?

After a mature reflection, Fanferlot decided that it would be
superfluous to ask for a secret when it could be surprised. To quietly
follow Cavaillon, and keep close watch on him until he caught him in the
very act of handing over the letter, was but play for the detective.

This method of proceeding, moreover, was much more in keeping with the
character of Fanferlot, who, being naturally soft and stealthy, deemed
it due to his profession to avoid all disturbance or anything resembling
evidence.

Fanferlot's plan was settled when he reached the vestibule.

He began talking with an office-boy, and, after a few apparentl